Memorials of the Faithful

‘Abdu’l-Bahá

A woman chaste and holy,
a sign and token of surpassing
beauty, a burning brand of the love of God, a lamp
of His bestowal, was Jináb-i-Táhirih.
1
She was called
Umm-Salmá; she was the daughter of Hájí Mullá Sálih, a
mujtahid of Qazvín, and her paternal uncle was Mullá
Taqí, the Imám-Jum’ih or leader of prayers in the cathedral
mosque of that city. They married her to Mullá Muhammad,
the son of Mullá Taqí, and she gave birth to three
children, two sons and a daughter; all three were bereft of
the grace that encompassed their mother, and all failed to
recognize the truth of the Cause.

When she was still a child her father selected a teacher
for her and she studied various branches of knowledge
and the arts, achieving remarkable ability in literary pursuits.
Such was the degree of her scholarship and attainments
that her father would often express his regret, saying,
“Would that she had been a boy, for he would have
shed illumination upon my household, and would have
succeeded me!”
2192

One day she was a guest in the home of Mullá Javád,
a cousin on her mother’s side, and there in her cousin’s
library she came upon some of the writings of Shaykh
Ahmad-i-Ahsá’í.
3
Delighted with what he had to say, Táhirih
asked to borrow the writings and take them home.
Mullá Javád violently objected, telling her: “Your father
is an enemy of the Twin Luminous Lights, Shaykh Ahmad
and Siyyid Kázim. If he should even dream that any
words of those two great beings, any fragrance from the
garden of those realities, had come your way, he would
make an attempt against my life, and you too would become
the target of his wrath.” Táhirih answered: “For a
long time now, I have thirsted after this; I have yearned
for these explanations, these inner truths. Give me whatever
you have of these books. Never mind if it angers my
father.” Accordingly, Mullá Javád sent over the writings
of the Shaykh and the Siyyid.

One night, Táhirih sought out her father in his library,
and began to speak of Shaykh Ahmad’s teachings. The
very moment he learned that his daughter knew of the
Shaykhí doctrines, Mullá Sálih’s denunciations rang out,
and he cried: “Javád has made you a lost soul!” Táhirih
answered, “The late Shaykh was a true scholar of God,
and I have learned an infinity of spiritual truths from
reading his books. Furthermore, he bases whatever he says
on the traditions of the Holy Imáms. You call yourself a
mystic knower and a man of God, you consider your respected
uncle to be a scholar as well, and most pious—yet in neither of you do I find a trace of those qualities!”

For some time, she carried on heated discussions with
her father, debating such questions as the Resurrection
and the Day of Judgment, the Night-Ascent of Muhammad
to Heaven, the Promise and the Threat, and the Advent
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of the Promised One.
4
Lacking arguments, her father
would resort to curses and abuse. Then one night, in
support of her contention, Táhirih quoted a holy tradition
from the Imám Ja’far-i-Sádiq;
5
and since it confirmed what
she was saying, her father burst out laughing, mocking
the tradition. Táhirih said, “Oh my father, these are the
words of the Holy Imám. How can you mock and deny
them?”

From that time on, she ceased to debate and contend
with her father. Meanwhile she entered into secret correspondence
with Siyyid Kázim, regarding the solution of
complex theological problems, and thus it came about
that the Siyyid conferred on her the name “Solace of the
Eyes” (Qurratu’l-‘Ayn); as for the title Táhirih (“The
Pure One”), it was first associated with her in Badasht,
and was subsequently approved by the Báb, and recorded
in Tablets.

Táhirih had caught fire. She set out for Karbilá, hoping
to meet Siyyid Kázim, but she arrived too late: ten days
before she reached that city, he passed away. Not long
before his death the Siyyid had shared with his disciples
the good news that the promised Advent was at hand.
“Go forth,” he repeatedly told them, “and seek out your
Lord.” Thus the most distinguished of his followers gathered
for retirement and prayer, for fasts and vigils, in the
Masjid-i-Kúfih, while some awaited the Advent in Karbilá.
Among these was Táhirih, fasting by day, practicing religious
disciplines, and spending the night in vigils, and
chanting prayers. One night when it was getting along
toward dawn she laid her head on her pillow, lost all
awareness of this earthly life, and dreamed a dream; in her
vision a youth, a Siyyid, wearing a black cloak and a green
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turban, appeared to her in the heavens; he was standing in
the air, reciting verses and praying with his hands upraised.
At once, she memorized one of those verses, and
wrote it down in her notebook when she awoke. After the
Báb had declared His mission, and His first book, “The
Best of Stories,”
6
was circulated, Táhirih was reading a
section of the text one day, and she came upon that same
verse, which she had noted down from the dream. Instantly
offering thanks, she fell to her knees and bowed
her forehead to the ground, convinced that the Báb’s message
was truth.

This good news reached her in Karbilá and she at once
began to teach. She translated and expounded “The Best
of Stories,” also writing in Persian and Arabic, composing
odes and lyrics, and humbly practicing her devotions, performing
even those that were optional and supernumerary.
When the evil ‘ulamás in Karbilá got wind of all this, and
learned that a woman was summoning the people to a
new religion and had already influenced a considerable
number, they went to the Governor and lodged a complaint.
Their charges, to be brief, led to violent attacks on
Táhirih, and sufferings, which she accepted and for which
she offered praise and thanks. When the authorities came
hunting for her they first assaulted Shamsu’d-Duhá, mistaking
her for Táhirih. As soon, however, as they heard
that Táhirih had been arrested they let Shams go—for
Táhirih had sent a message to the Governor saying, “I am
at your disposal. Do not harm any other.”

The Governor set guards over her house and shut her
away, writing Baghdád for instructions as to how he
should proceed. For three months, she lived in a state of
siege, completely isolated, with the guards surrounding her
195
house. Since the local authorities had still received no reply
from Baghdád, Táhirih referred her case to the Governor,
saying: “No word has come from either Baghdád or
Constantinople. Accordingly, we will ourselves proceed to
Baghdád and await the answer there.” The Governor gave
her leave to go, and she set out, accompanied by Shamsu’d-Duhá
and the Leaf of Paradise (the sister of Mullá
Husayn) and her mother. In Baghdád she stayed first in
the house of Shaykh Muhammad, the distinguished father
of Áqá Muhammad-Mustafá. But so great was the
press of people around her that she transferred her residence
to another quarter, engaged night and day in spreading
the Faith, and freely associated with the inhabitants of
Baghdád. She thus became celebrated throughout the city
and there was a great uproar.

Táhirih also maintained a correspondence with the ‘ulamás
of Kazímayn; she presented them with unanswerable
proofs, and when one or another appeared before her she
offered him convincing arguments. Finally she sent a message
to the Shí’ih divines, saying to them: “If you are not
satisfied with these conclusive proofs, I challenge you to
a trial by ordeal.”
7
Then there was a great outcry from the
divines, and the Governor was obliged to send Táhirih and
her women companions to the house of Ibn-i-Álúsí, who
was muftí of Baghdád. Here she remained about three
months, waiting for word and directions from Constantinople.
Ibn-i-Álúsí would engage her in learned dialogues,
questions would be asked and answers given, and he
would not deny what she had to say.

On a certain day the muftí related one of his dreams,
and asked her to tell him what it meant. He said: “In my
dream I saw the Shí’ih ‘ulamás arriving at the holy tomb
of Imám Husayn, the Prince of Martyrs. They took away
196
the barrier that encloses the tomb, and they broke open
the resplendent grave, so that the immaculate body lay
revealed to their gaze. They sought to take up the holy
form, but I cast myself down on the corpse and I warded
them off.” Táhirih answered: “This is the meaning of
your dream: you are about to deliver me from the hands
of the Shí’ih divines.” “I too had interpreted it thus,” said
Ibn-i-Álúsí.

Since he had discovered that she was well versed in
learned questions and in sacred commentaries and Texts,
the two often carried on debates; she would speak on such
themes as the Day of Resurrection, the Balance, and the
Sirát,
8
and he would not turn away.

Then came a night when the father of Ibn-i-Álúsí called
at the house of his son. He had a meeting with Táhirih
and abruptly, without asking a single question, began to
curse, mock and revile her. Embarrassed at his father’s behavior,
Ibn-i-Álúsí apologized. Then he said: “The answer
has come from Constantinople. The King has commanded
that you be set free, but only on condition that you leave
his realms. Go then, tomorrow, make your preparations for
the journey, and hasten away from this land.”

Accordingly Táhirih, with her women companions, left
the muftí’s house, saw to arranging for their travel gear,
and went out of Baghdád. When they left the city, a number
of Arab believers, carrying arms, walked along beside
their convoy. Among the escort were Shaykh Sultán,
Shaykh Muhammad and his distinguished son Muhammad-Mustafá,
and Shaykh Sálih, and these were
mounted. It was Shaykh Muhammad who defrayed the
expenses of the journey.

When they reached Kirmansháh the women alighted
at one house, the men at another, and the inhabitants arrived
197
in a continuous stream to seek information as to the
new Faith. Here as elsewhere the ‘ulamás were soon in a
state of frenzy and they commanded that the newcomers
be expelled. As a result the kad-khudá or chief officer of
that quarter, with a band of people, laid siege to the house
where Táhirih was, and sacked it. Then they placed
Táhirih and her companions in an uncovered howdah and
carried them from the town to an open field, where they
put the captives out. The drivers then took their animals
and returned to the city. The victims were left on the bare
ground, with no food, no shelter, and no means of traveling
on.

Táhirih at once wrote a letter to the prince of that territory,
in which she told him: “O thou just Governor! We
were guests in your city. Is this the way you treat your
guests?” When her letter was brought to the Governor of
Kirmansháh he said: “I knew nothing of this injustice.
This mischief was kindled by the divines.” He immediately
commanded the kad-khudá to return all the travelers’
belongings. That official duly surrendered the stolen
goods, the drivers with their animals came back out of the
city, the travelers took their places and resumed the journey.

They arrived in Hamadán and here their stay was a
happy one. The most illustrious ladies of that city, even
the princesses, would come to visit, seeking the benefits of
Táhirih’s teaching. In Hamadán she dismissed a part of
her escort and sent them back to Baghdád, while she
brought some of them, including Shamsu’d-Duhá and
Shaykh-Sálih, along with her to Qazvín.

As they traveled, some riders advanced to meet them,
kinsmen of Táhirih’s from Qazvín, and they wished to
lead her away alone, unescorted by the others, to her
father’s house. Táhirih refused, saying: “These are in my
company.” In this way they entered Qazvín. Táhirih proceeded
198
to her father’s house, while the Arabs who had
formed her escort alighted at a caravanserai. Táhirih soon
left her father and went to live with her brother, and
there the great ladies of the city would come to visit her;
all this until the murder of Mullá Taqí,
9
when every Bábí
in Qazvín was taken prisoner. Some were sent to Tihrán
and then returned to Qazvín and martyred.

Mullá Taqí’s murder came about in this way: One day,
when that besotted tyrant had mounted his pulpit, he began
to mock and revile the great Shaykh Ahmad-i-Ahsá’í.
Shamelessly, grossly, screaming obscenities, he cried out:
“That Shaykh is the one who has kindled this fire of evil,
and subjected the whole world to this ordeal!” There was
an inquirer in the audience, a native of Shíráz. He found
the taunts, jeers and indecencies to be more than he could
bear. Under cover of darkness he betook himself to the
mosque, plunged a spearhead between the lips of Mullá
Taqí and fled. The next morning they arrested the defenseless
believers and thereupon subjected them to agonizing
torture, though all were innocent and knew nothing
of what had come to pass. There was never any question
of investigating the case; the believers repeatedly declared
their innocence but no one paid them any heed. When a
few days had passed the killer gave himself up; he confessed
to the authorities, informing them that he had
committed the murder because Mullá Taqí had vilified
Shaykh Ahmad. “I deliver myself into your hands,” he
told them, “so that you will set these innocent people free.”
They arrested him as well, put him in the stocks, chained
him, and sent him in chains, along with the others, to
Tihrán.

Once there he observed that despite his confession, the
199
others were not released. By night, he made his escape
from the prison and went to the house of Ridá Khán—that rare and precious man, that star-sacrifice among the
lovers of God—the son of Muhammad Khán, Master of
the Horse to Muhammad Sháh. He stayed there for a
time, after which he and Ridá Khán secretly rode away to
the Fort of Shaykh Tabarsí in Mázindarán.
10
Muhammad
Khán sent riders after them to track them down, but try as
they might, no one could find them. Those two horsemen
got to the Fort of Tabarsí, where both of them won a
martyr’s death. As for the other friends who were in the
prison at Tihrán, some of these were returned to Qazvín
and they too suffered martyrdom.

One day the administrator of finance, Mírzá Sháfí,
called in the murderer and addressed him, saying: “Jináb,
do you belong to a dervish order, or do you follow the
Law? If you are a follower of the Law, why did you deal
that learned mujtahid a cruel, a fatal blow in the mouth?
If you are a dervish and follow the Path, one of the rules
of the Path is to harm no man. How, then, could you
slaughter that zealous divine?” “Sir,” he replied, “besides
the Law, and besides the Path, we also have the Truth.
It was in serving the Truth that I paid him for his deed.”
11

These things would take place before the reality of this
Cause was revealed and all was made plain. For in those
days no one knew that the Manifestation of the Báb
would culminate in the Manifestation of the Blessed
Beauty and that the law of retaliation would be done away
with, and the foundation-principle of the Law of God
would be this, that “It is better for you to be killed than to
200
kill”; that discord and contention would cease, and the
rule of war and butchery would fall away. In those days,
that sort of thing would happen. But praised be God, with
the advent of the Blessed Beauty such a splendor of harmony
and peace shone forth, such a spirit of meekness and
long-suffering, that when in Yazd men, women and children
were made the targets of enemy fire or were put to
the sword, when the leaders and the evil ‘ulamás and their
followers joined together and unitedly assaulted those defenseless
victims and spilled out their blood—hacking at
and rending apart the bodies of chaste women, with their
daggers slashing the throats of children they had orphaned,
then setting the torn and mangled limbs on fire—not one
of the friends of God lifted a hand against them. Indeed,
among those martyrs, those real companions of the ones
who died, long gone, at Karbilá—was a man who, when
he saw the drawn sword flashing over him, thrust sugar
candy into his murderer’s mouth and cried, “With a
sweet taste on your lips, put me to death—for you bring
me martyrdom, my dearest wish!”

Let us return to our theme. After the murder of her
impious uncle, Mullá Taqí, in Qazvín, Táhirih fell into
dire straits. She was a prisoner and heavy of heart, grieving
over the painful events that had come to pass. She
was watched on every side, by attendants, guards, the
farráshes, and her foes. While she languished thus, Bahá’u’lláh
dispatched Hádíy-i-Qazvíní, husband of the
celebrated Khátún-Ján, from the capital, and they managed,
by a stratagem, to free her from that embroilment
and got her to Tihrán in the night. She alighted at the
mansion of Bahá’u’lláh and was lodged in an upper apartment.

When word of this spread throughout Tihrán, the Government
hunted for her high and low; nevertheless, the
friends kept arriving to see her, in a steady stream, and
201
Táhirih, seated behind a curtain, would converse with
them. One day the great Siyyid Yahyá, surnamed Vahíd,
was present there. As he sat without, Táhirih listened to
him from behind the veil. I was then a child, and was sitting
on her lap. With eloquence and fervor, Vahíd was
discoursing on the signs and verses that bore witness to
the advent of the new Manifestation. She suddenly interrupted
him and, raising her voice, vehemently declared:
“O Yahyá! Let deeds, not words, testify to thy faith, if
thou art a man of true learning. Cease idly repeating the
traditions of the past, for the day of service, of steadfast
action, is come. Now is the time to show forth the true
signs of God, to rend asunder the veils of idle fancy, to
promote the Word of God, and to sacrifice ourselves in
His path. Let deeds, not words, be our adorning!”

The Blessed Beauty made elaborate arrangements for
Táhirih’s journey to Badasht and sent her off with an
equipage and retinue. His own party left for that region
some days afterward.

In Badasht, there was a great open field. Through its
center a stream flowed, and to its right, left, and rear there
were three gardens, the envy of Paradise. One of those
gardens was assigned to Quddús,
12
but this was kept a secret.
Another was set apart for Táhirih, and in a third was
raised the pavilion of Bahá’u’lláh. On the field amidst the
three gardens, the believers pitched their tents. Evenings,
Bahá’u’lláh, Quddús and Táhirih would come together.
In those days the fact that the Báb was the Qá’im had not
yet been proclaimed; it was the Blessed Beauty, with Quddús,
Who arranged for the proclamation of a universal Advent
202
and the abrogation and repudiation of the ancient
laws.

Then one day, and there was a wisdom in it, Bahá’u’lláh
fell ill; that is, the indisposition was to serve a vital
purpose. On a sudden, in the sight of all, Quddús came
out of his garden, and entered the pavilion of Bahá’u’lláh.
But Táhirih sent him a message, to say that their Host
being ill, Quddús should visit her garden instead. His
answer was: “This garden is preferable. Come, then, to
this one.” Táhirih, with her face unveiled, stepped from
her garden, advancing to the pavilion of Bahá’u’lláh; and
as she came, she shouted aloud these words: “The Trumpet
is sounding! The great Trump is blown! The universal
Advent is now proclaimed!”
13
The believers gathered in
that tent were panic struck, and each one asked himself,
“How can the Law be abrogated? How is it that this
woman stands here without her veil?”

“Read the Súrih of the Inevitable,”
14
said Bahá’u’lláh;
and the reader began: “When the Day that must come
shall have come suddenly… Day that shall abase! Day
that shall exalt!…” and thus was the new Dispensation
announced and the great Resurrection made manifest. At
the start, those who were present fled away, and some forsook
their Faith, while some fell a prey to suspicion and
doubt, and a number, after wavering, returned to the
presence of Bahá’u’lláh. The Conference of Badasht broke
up, but the universal Advent had been proclaimed.

Afterward, Quddús hastened away to the Fort of Tabarsí
15
and the Blessed Beauty, with provisions and equipment,
203
journeyed to Níyálá, having the intention of going
on from there by night, making His way through the
enemy encampment and entering the Fort. But Mírzá
Taqí, the Governor of Ámul, got word of this, and with
seven hundred riflemen arrived in Níyálá. Surrounding
the village by night, he sent Bahá’u’lláh with eleven riders
back to Ámul, and those calamities and tribulations, told
of before, came to pass.

As for Táhirih, after the breakup at Badasht she was
captured, and the oppressors sent her back under guard to
Tihrán. There she was imprisoned in the house of Mahmúd
Khán, the Kalántar. But she was aflame, enamored,
restless, and could not be still. The ladies of Tihrán, on
one pretext or another, crowded to see and listen to her.
It happened that there was a celebration at the Mayor’s
house for the marriage of his son; a nuptial banquet was
prepared, and the house adorned. The flower of Tihran’s
ladies were invited, the princesses, the wives of vazírs and
other great. A splendid wedding it was, with instrumental
music and vocal melodies—by day and night the lute, the
bells and songs. Then Táhirih began to speak; and so bewitched
were the great ladies that they forsook the cithern
and the drum and all the pleasures of the wedding feast,
to crowd about Táhirih and listen to the sweet words of
her mouth.

Thus she remained, a helpless captive. Then came the
attempt on the life of the Sháh;
16
a farmán was issued; she
204
was sentenced to death. Saying she was summoned to the
Prime Minister’s, they arrived to lead her away from the
Kalántar’s house. She bathed her face and hands, arrayed
herself in a costly dress, and scented with attar of roses
she came out of the house.

They brought her into a garden, where the headsmen
waited; but these wavered and then refused to end her
life. A slave was found, far gone in drunkenness; besotted,
vicious, black of heart. And he strangled Táhirih. He
forced a scarf between her lips and rammed it down her
throat. Then they lifted up her unsullied body and flung
it in a well, there in the garden, and over it threw down
earth and stones. But Táhirih rejoiced; she had heard with
a light heart the tidings of her martyrdom; she set her eyes
on the supernal Kingdom and offered up her life.

Salutations be unto her, and praise. Holy be her dust,
as the tiers of light come down on it from Heaven.

The “Ahsánu’l-Qisás,” the Báb’s commentary on the Súrih of Joseph, was called the Qur’án of the Bábís, and was translated from Arabic into Persian by Táhirih. Cf. God Passes By, p. 23.
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7.

Qur’án 3:54: “Then will we invoke and lay the malison of God on those that lie!” The ordeal was by imprecation.
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8.

Qur’án 21:48; 19:37, etc. In Islám the Bridge of Sirát, sharp as a sword and finer than a hair, stretches across Hell to Heaven.
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9.

Cf. The Dawn-Breakers, p. 276. The murderer was not a Bábí, but a fervent admirer of the Shaykhí leaders, the Twin Luminous Lights.
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This refers to the doctrine that there are three ways to God: the Law (sharí’at), the Path (taríqat), and the Truth (haqíqat). That is, the law of the orthodox, the path of the dervish, and the truth. Cf. R. A. Nicholson, Commentary on the Mathnaví of Rúmí, s.v.
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12.

The eighteenth Letter of the Living, martyred with unspeakable cruelty in the market place at Barfurúsh, when he was twenty-seven. Bahá’u’lláh conferred on him a station second only to that of the Báb Himself. Cf. The Dawn-Breakers, pp. 408–415.
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A systematic campaign against the new Faith had been launched in Persia by the civil and ecclesiastical authorities combined. The believers, cut down wherever they were isolated, banded together when they could, for protection against the Government, the clergy, and the people. Betrayed and surrounded as they passed through the forest of Mázindarán, some 300 believers, mostly students and recluses, built the Fort of Shaykh Tabarsí and held out against the armies of Persia for eleven months. Cf. The Dawn-Breakers, chapters XIX and XX; God Passes By, p. 37 et seq.
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16.

On August 15, 1852, a half-crazed Bábí youth wounded the Sháh with shot from a pistol. The assailant was instantly killed, and the authorities carried out a wholesale massacre of the believers, its climax described by Renan as “a day perhaps unparalleled in the history of the world.” Cf. Lord Curzon, Persia and the Persian Question, pp. 501–2, and God Passes By, p. 62 et seq.
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